Oh, I Think So

People who know me well will tell you that I am not a drinker.  In college I was more excited about being the designated driver than about missing out on booze.  "Does anyone mind?  I'll give you my keys right now."  I snagged those puppies right up because I liked going out and socializing but drinking in excess wasn't as cool as being trusted with the car of another.  Barring some isolated incidents of sensationally bad judgment in my past, I am mostly cold sober at the wheel.  If there's delicious champagne, either I'm spending the night, there's another driver, or I'm going to be in a cab or on public transportation. In spite of that, I've lately been thinking about mixed drinks during evenings at home.  I like decent-to-fine champagne but a girl can't drink a whole bottle of bubbly without gross results, so I've taken to concocting drinks of my own taste.  As a cook, I don't have the patience to follow a recipe.  Same goes for al...

Valentine's Day came and went and  the best thing I saw was at Mariano's Fresh Foods.  It was a big chunk of watermelon carved into a heart shape, shaved and rounded on the top and sides to make it look appetizing, amusing, and like it was true love's melon.  They put berries -- rasp, blue, and straw -- around the edges and parked it on a lettuce leaves for color.  It was hilarious, really.  I'd never considered that particular fruit for VD but watermelon might be the thing that says "I Love You" to someone who's very health conscious or else someone like me who finds it refreshing and a fruit pick-me-up.  The color, after all, is perfect. I bought that watermelon heart for myself.  I should have taken a picture of it but I instead cut it in half and ate half yesterday and half today.  It was perfectly ripe seedless watermelon with just the right sweetness and texture.  Happy VD to me, I say! And Happy VD to you, too.

Maybe you think that Super Bowl XLVIII was the major darn blowout that it was and you are right.  And maybe you don't think that; maybe you think it was simply a bloodbath and WTF?  The game featured a small (5'11") Seattle QB and his team crushing -- really, all that remained was a bit of powder -- the Denver Broncos.  (I am not going to say the name of the Denver QB as, wow, what the hell?)  It started with a safety.  A safety almost never happens.  (When I first started with this blog someone mentioned a safety to me and I had to go look up what it was.)  (And so can you.  I still had to go back and reread what it is when the Seahawks got the two points this time and I think I get it but don't make me explain it.)  It went downhill from there.  After the halftime show, I watched "Downton Abbey," hoping things would turn around.  I got back to the game in time to see the Seahawks score yet another touchdown.  WTF indeed. He...

Regular readers of this blog (and my thanks to you both) will know that everything about me -- museum-going, opera-loving, international-traveling, theatre-loving, ethnic-cuisine-loving, foreign-film watching me -- screams that sports are verboten as a topic of discussion or even as a fleeting thought.  Except, I like sports, especially football.  I like sports enough to be pleased if a conversation turns in that direction.  I can hold up my end of the discussion and I will probably enjoy it.  That I know what I am talking about is confirmed when known sports fanatics at my workplace seek me out to talk about some sports thing or other (and thank you, coworkers, for this validation).  I like football but not so much that I am in its thrall in all my spare time, but I do like it.  Multiple concussions and the knowledge that one day it will be banned forever for being too dangerous be damned!  I like it. This brings us to Super Bowl XLVIII (48 for non...